Love seems boredom and calligraphy

I took some lovers 

when you took your own

Lovers who come and paint sunshine with soft paint brushes

On glasses that reflect the outside tree that smokes 

Lovers encamped under my windows on rain softened pavements

for a glimpse of me, foreseen 

waiting with syllables that came with their shadows 

Lovers  dead and living sustained in wills and pages

full of awakened men, tattooed children, night lights and endangered  silence

In all of them I found unfastened women and trapezes of kindness and desire.

Lovers creeping on me with marigold, tuber flowers, Sanskrit syllables and chants 

Peaceful, incensed like holy hermitage and white veined life.

Lovers with built in towers, commencements and moral sanctuaries 

walking in boxes of law and never erasing boundaries.

They protected me 

from them and me.

I am grateful to my lovers who beseeched and inspired living.

I allowed myself lovers and friends

healing and antibiotics

Reading and reverberations 

Journey and shipwrecks 

Water and bobbing 

Running off and coming back 

Last few years 

Saw me through exile and  a congregation of well meaning verses.

It wasn't like I missed you much

It wasn't like I was dying for you 

It wasn't like you were a necessity 

but I missed you and needed you like death.

Now that you wish our coming together and coupling 

And take us on with undoing and motion

I fear I will miss my lovers and not having you for whom I mourned. 

Love seems boredom and calligraphy.